Tiny Flower
by Something Less Than Epic
Summary: Sin has a run in with a very small, very trusting girl.


Nallis Island was actually a small peninsula, situated several hundred miles north of Besaid. Though not boasting a temple, it always managed to draw an ample tourist base, owing mainly to a large, purple fruit that grew copiously on the trees and tasted like absolute heaven. Exportation was impossible, for every last fruit that remained separated from its stock on the tree for over an hour withered, and died. The people were a small but industrious lot, taking advantage of the sale of their local fruits and spending the rest of their days lying under the sun, swimming in the ocean, and fending off the occasional fiend with relative ease. Life, luxury, and the occasional prayer to Yevon made up the sum lot of their existence.  
  
None of that really matters, though. Not when Sin decides to pay a visit. And Sin did, mere months before the arrival of Tidus and the pilgrimage of Yuna, daughter of Braska, the pilgrimage that would put an end to the vicious circle that had reigned Spira for over a thousand years.  
  
On the day Sin visited Nallis, a young girl was picking flowers along the shoreline. Her name was Sophie, and being only six years old, she knew nothing of Sin – the monster had never deigned it necessary to carry its murderous rampage through the tiny island, and Sophie's parents decided it was best that their child not learn of the great death bringer before she was old enough to cope with the information. Sophie had been allowed to go off with her numerous friends under the guidance of an older matron, but Sophie, ever dreamy and absent-minded, had wandered off in a fit of childish innocence and utter glee at the light of day. The sun shone brightly in the sky, casting warm rays down upon fertile, emerald fields of grass and bush. The sea was clear, and of the most precious crystal: absolutely flawless. And although Sophie's mind was still a little too inexperienced to truly appreciate these qualities in a day, she still nevertheless took great joy in the pure warmth. Her golden, curly locks of hair danced back and forth in the gentle breeze.  
  
The day was utterly peaceful, and not the least bit suggestive of the ruin to come. One could no more have foretold death in the forecast than presented chocobos raining from the sky as a rational, common occurrence.  
  
Nallis was an island blessed both with huge, heaping mountains – even though few in amount, they did exist – and extensive tracks of jungles. These two features made watching all sides of the peninsula quite impossible. As such, most of the island was deprived of the view that Sophie managed to witness as she picked her way through fields of rainbow flowers and arching oaks.  
  
Sin, in full furor and epic display, curved its way slowly out of the water, a massive fleshy protuberance of a spine cutting aside enormous waves and sending them cascading down its back. The sun glistened on its rough, pebbly armoured skin, casting bright glares at wild angles and somewhat dazzling the little girl who watched at the edge of the beach. Having never heard of Sin, she was justifiably curious: and, somehow, the huge, ugly appearance of the creature did little to transform that curiosity into pure terror, or even dissuade her from remaining in the area.  
  
For indeed, it was a gruesome sight. Its mouth yawned as water streamed down on all sides, shaking the world with a cavernous voice that spoke volumes of Armageddon. The island, from that point on, was officially alerted. A single, mammoth leg, impossibly strong and seemingly capable of lifting worlds, crashed into the shoreline, eradicating trees and decimating the flowers that Sophie loved to run through. And its eyes, those horrible, violet eyes, all blinked at random intervals, surveying the scene, and searching endlessly for targets.  
  
Sophie was surely the bravest young soul in the entire world: for even without knowing of its nature and reputation, a person would surely be absolutely terrified to witness such a view. Yet, she was not, and instead ran out onto the beach, smiling with intense occupation. To everyone else, Sin was a beast, an utter demon: yet, to Sophie, it seemed a majestic beast, one that rose out of the water and kept little girls safe from harm.  
  
She called to Sin, waving. "Hiiiii!" Sin had an impossible number of ears: indeed, it heard every motion from every corner of the globe: it heard, now, the screams of panicking villagers, rushing about madly, preparing to evacuate, looking for their children, just as clearly as it heard this little girl, stretched up on the seashore, beckoning for it. Five of its eyes rolled downwards to her, scanning the beach with the vigil of a hawk.  
  
Deep inside, it whispered Destroy to itself, for that is the essence of Sin: to be reborn, and then to render merciless, undeniable ruin. Its huge fins, essential for propelling such a gigantic form through the water, soared into the sky, ready to launch countless of its Spawn to wipe Sophie from existence.  
  
And she knew something was wrong. Indeed, she knew. But there was always a way out of these things: a way to make things right. Sophie's mom had taught her as much. But how to be accepted by the beast? Ah, that was the question that racked her tiny, immature mind.  
  
Sins fins glowed ominously. Cracklings of horrible, screeching life erupted from each small protuberance that emerged.  
  
Her friends had a club, it occurred to Sophie, where one was required to sing a certain song to be admitted. Their playhouse was a huge, split tree, in which they could sit, converse, and do what kids do. Those who wished to be included were obliged to knock on the roots of the tree, and then sing that song, the song that all the adults seemed rather to enjoy crooning long into the night.  
  
So she sang. The echoing, almost mournful notes carried high into the air, floating on the gentle breeze. Her voice was powerful, with the quality of someone far older than her few tender years.  
  
Sin stopped. Its fins faltered. Every ear directed itself away from the world, and listened to her, small yet powerful, beguiling and utterly appealing. Inside Sin, somewhere very deep, a single voice called out in protest.  
  
"Aw, crap. Call off the strike, stupid-ass self: it's just some little girl."  
  
The fins dropped; Sin's spawn fell back into slumber once more, left to fight another day. Sins enormous maw closed, almost gently, and it merely listened to her song. The waves around its body buckled and crashed as it swayed, almost rhythmically, along with the tune. Anybody who saw the sight – not that there were any witnesses – would be amazed to see the gargantuan devourer of hope and goodness made so docile.  
  
Sophie finished her song with a tiny giggle, clapping at her handiwork. She'd tamed the beast! Sadly, however, she was at a loss as to what she should do for an encore to her performance. The song again?  
  
Sin watched her from far above, its watery, accusatory eyes never leaving her. Off in the distance it registered the fact that people were coming: many people, probably with weapons. Not that it really cared. She was the focus right now.  
  
Sophie pondered the matter in silence a moment, twirling one toe in the sand absentmindedly. What to do, what to do. . . maybe give it a flower?  
  
Everybody likes flowers, she thought, since they're pretty. Her use of somewhat undeveloped logic had, in all probability, saved her life at that moment, for most other actions would have roused the beast into maliciousness once more.  
  
Sophie picked a small, purple flower, with vibrantly red stripes lining each delicate petal, to present to Sin. With her tiny sunbathed hand she extended it up to Sin, who watched with bewildered curiosity. Nobody had ever done this before, and it had no idea how to react.  
  
Well, most of it didn't. The part that did took command. Somehow, by rippling and remoulding muscles in a way that they weren't meant to be moved, Sin curved its mouth into a somewhat gruesome, yet simultaneously charming, smile. With a gentleness that belied its size, Sin lowered its head in a regal bow, parking its snout deep into the turf, mere metres away from little Sophie. The sand quaked, and Sophie toppled over momentarily, but recovered herself quickly, laughing.  
  
Sophie heard a decidedly rough voice echo within her mind. Rough, and yet, still kind: no less warm than that of her parents, if a little more colourful.  
  
"Heya, pretty lady. You got somethin' for old Jecht here?"  
  
Sophie was too embarrassed to reply, even in her mind: she merely nodded, staring at her feet while beaming from ear to ear.  
  
"Well c'mon now, darlin', lay it on me! I won't bite, I promise."  
  
Without even the slightest bit of caution, Sophie stepped forward, closing the gap between Sin and herself. Her tiny hands ran across his armoured surface, gently petting him along the ridge of his nose. Sin rumbled in a mock purr, one that Sophie squealed in glee over.  
  
"Oh yeah, I'm always the ladies' man." That small part of Sin mused, with warm triumph.  
  
Sophie placed the flower amongst the crevices of Sin's nose, giving him one final pat and stepping back again. "It looks like your eyes, very pretty." Her first words to Sin were simple, yet conveyed all of her meaning with them: she thought Sin was beautiful.  
  
They were the first nice words Sin, and he who occupied Sin's mind, had ever heard in a long, long time.  
  
"Thanks, girly," he murmured into her mind, "you're not so bad lookin' yourself, y'know?" Sophie flushed at these words and grinned, a smile that Sin once again mirrored.  
  
And then, Hell broke loose.  
  
The men of Nallis arrived, heading down the beach path, bearing every weapon they could find. Many took one look at Sin and fled: others, noticing the tiny Sophie so close to the beast, were filled with rage, and charged, screaming incoherently. One amongst these was Sophie's father, who, minutes earlier, had been scrambling about the village, searching frantically for his missing daughter.  
  
"No, don't be stupid, don't be goddamn fools, I can't stop it-"  
  
Sin swung into action, all nonchalance and charm gone, its head rising out of the sand with a vicious rumble that sent Sophie flying. It was in survival mode now. Time to unleash the apocalypse.  
  
Its fins rose: the men came, and started to hack away at its hide with incredibly weak blades that scarcely scratched Sin: and from its fins spewed flying, screaming death, hurtling down upon the men and consuming their flesh.  
  
And those eyes, those horrible, glassy eyes, they watched it all from above, grimly satisfied, following the path of death that it had always tread. And tread that monster did, descending upon the peach with a mighty paw, surpassing the mountains and climbing beyond, searching for more to kill, crushing both body and tree in its wake.  
  
The few survivors of the onslaught – mostly women and children – made it to Kilika within a few days, propelled by tiny boats and starving to death after several days without food. Sophie was not amongst them.  
  
Deep inside Sin, a man wept, and continued to weep, long into the night, watching as he helplessly destroyed everything in sight.  
  
Months later, the flower would be disintegrated by a powerful blast of fiery magic on the part of Lulu. How it had survived intact until then, perched on the nose of death itself, is a mystery. 


End file.
